It’s December. It feels like I’ve been wading through quicksand most of the year. Some causes are easy to recognise, like my mother’s passing in spring and minor, though annoying, health issues.

But there’s been something deeper, something it took me a while to recognise. That’s a deep sadness about the state of society and what we’ve done, and are doing, to nature and the entire planet. My sadness isn’t recent; it’s been a constant companion for years.

What’s changed for me this year is the rise of right-wing populism and the sense of powerlessness as we repeat some of the darkest days of history with the Russian invasion of Ukraine, genocide in Gaza, civil wars, conflict and repression across the world. And the world’s superpower abandoning any sense of normal political and diplomatic behaviour.

All this left me questioning my focus on sustainability, which has been central to most of my working life. Pursuing the Sustainable Development Goals seems pointless as international norms collapse, billionaires manipulate governments and the public to their own ends or plan their escapes to Mars – while the rest of us head to hell in a handcart.

There is so much said in the climate communications sector about the supposed power of stories and storytelling. We are regularly told that we just need to 'sell' a hopeful vision of a 'greener' more socially just society and that that society is within our grasp (if only we’d all just ‘do our bit’ for 'net zero').

You're reading a guest post by Morgan Hope Phillips

The trouble with these stories is that they (a) promise only 'jam tomorrow' for the working and lower-middle classes - who see very little immediate upside to the climate policies being implemented; and (b) ask for only minor tech-enabled lifestyle tweaks from the upper and upper-middle classes - who get some jam today, but must also still be sold the promise jam tomorrow⁽¹⁾.

The promise of jam tomorrow has rarely ever worked at scale, and minor lifestyle tweaks being enough is clearly bullsh*t. That ship sailed a long time ago.

Seeking out positive news stories is often promoted as an antidote to doom scrolling. I’ve tried it, and I continue to do it, but I often find that instead of being inspired, uplifted and given hope, I feel unsettled and disempowered.

This is important, not just for our individual mental health, but also for how we communicate and engage with others in our work for sustainability, climate, nature etc.

I think I’ve got a handle on what the problem is, and I have some ideas about how to tell positive stories better. I’m going to be putting this into practice with our new podcast Thrivable Scotland, thrivable planet - read about this below.

The positive news stories that don’t do it for me, seem saccharine – artificially sweet. They present the positive stuff while stripping out the reality - the past, present and future realities.

I recently read a couple of books about people living in desperate situations. One was an autobiography of growing up in communist Albania, the other the story of a Syrian town under siege by Assad’s regime for three years.

Both books were horrific and moving. But even in these extremely difficult situations, people’s lives weren’t relentlessly grim. There were times of great joy and deep connection, of pleasure in small things despite the big picture.

That got me thinking about the concept of thriving – of what we really need in order to have a good life.

Sothe other day I asked people what thriving meant to them. Here are some typical replies:

In my last post I wrote that our future is so uncertain that we should let go of the mindset of “achieving sustainability” or “saving the world”, with its implication of either success or failure. (Link below.)

I suggested that we should instead focus on creating the conditions where people and the rest of nature have the best chance of thriving – now and into the future, whatever happens.

I’m still trying to clarify my thoughts and feelings about all this, so thank you to everyone who responded with encouragement, perceptive comments and useful questions.

Today I want to pick up this question from Saskia¹:

“I’m not sure my work is making a difference”

“What can I do that is actually worthwhile?”

“I don’t see the point any longer.”

“It’s all too little, too late.”

I’ve been hearing things like this recently from so many people working in sustainability.

I often feel the same way myself. Asking around, I've discovered that others are hearing this in their networks too.